


Lindorm

by jamestiqueeriuskirk



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bondage, Dom Thor (Marvel), Established Relationship, Heavy Angst, I mean it, Impact Play, M/M, Masochism, Mental Health Issues, PWP without Porn, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Sibling Incest, Sub Loki (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 16:30:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14406048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamestiqueeriuskirk/pseuds/jamestiqueeriuskirk
Summary: This was a crucible for them both.





	Lindorm

**Author's Note:**

> Actually, this was a crucible for me, your author. I fucked myself up writing this. I didn't step out of my comfort zone so much as take a bullet train to the other side of the world from it. This fic is really very sad. And not sexy.

The switch cut a sharp arc through the air of the dim cabin and landed, stinging mightily, on Loki’s flank with a harsh _thwack_.

Thor rubbed the supple leather of it over the ache that bloomed there, where his preceding blows had already yielded their fruit in the form of angry, red stripes across Loki’s buttocks and down his thighs, then reared back, adjusted his trajectory slightly, and brought it down again.

The first of the night’s tears came to in Loki’s eyes, and the next strike made them spill, fat, wet droplets free to fall down onto the mattress, like the closest thing to rain Loki had seen in months, confined, unnaturally, to this overcrowded, metal prison, hurtling through barren space, dragging him ever closer to Midgard, where he wished not to go.

And Loki felt, suddenly, distress, that his brother was behind him and unable to watch them fall, because they were for him, this all was for him, even though he might never realize as much or understand if he did.

After another strike, something must have changed in Loki’s posture, for his brother put down the leather implement, beside Loki’s body, like a promise, or, more, like an oath, and crouched down before him to assess the damage, which was more accurately done by checking his face than his ass.

His face was wet with two steady, still-flowing rivulets when he raised it for Thor’s inspection. He blinked, rapidly, several times, since it was easier than meeting his brother’s eye unflinchingly, and he felt the tears clump his eyelashes together delicately.

Thor put a hand to his face, which Loki leaned into gratefully, before he could stop himself, though he would have preferred that the touch meant little to him, or that Thor had not extended it at all. Thor’s thumb brushed his cheek dry.

He wanted Thor to take his thumb, now glinting with the tears, into his mouth, then, and taste of them. Loki had so little to give him, but what he had was Thor’s, paltry as it was. He couldn’t offer Thor his apologies, after all, or, at least, not his sincere ones. He had none of those to give, much as he wished he did. Instead, like he’d always done, Loki took, and took, and took, ever unsatisfied, and he couldn’t foresee a future where that would change, whether or not Thor’s indulgence of his greed remained steadfast or wavered and ceased. Loki knew where they would end up, should the latter thing come to pass, so he had to hope Thor would never grow wise to him.

But, while he waited to find out, he could absolutely give Thor this, only Thor refused to take it from him, and Loki wanted to scream in frustration.

Instead, he sobbed, and it was an ugly thing, like him, made uglier by the way Thor met Loki’s lips with his own and accepted it into his mouth. He didn’t choke on it, miraculously, but if it had had form, he surely would have. Loki could not say whether he hoped it would poison Thor or not.

A second sob was wrung forth by Thor’ careful hand coming back to cup his face, and more trailed after it, so now he was not just openly weeping but really crying, noisily and unattractively, and Thor watched him do it like it pained him.

The anger that roused in Loki, to see Thor make that face, stung hot, almost as badly as his sadness, but it helped him quiet his sobs, and steel himself, and good thing, too, for Thor would never resume until he had satisfied himself that Loki was _okay_ , and wasn’t that a joke, and unfair, _cruel_ of Thor, for Loki could not remember the last time he had been _okay_.

Thor’s hand on his cheek was now stroking him in a way he supposed his brother meant to be soothing, but it was only most severely irritating, partly because Loki did not hate it. He wanted more of that touch, actually, and felt disgust when he realized he would have preferred if Thor called the whole thing off, against his wishes, and just subjected him to his caresses the rest of the night.

The temptation to ask for such a thing was strong and mortifying – Thor’s gentle care, if Loki accepted it, would only be palliative, and nothing would ever be solved, between them, if Thor had his way, if Loki _let_ him – and he compensated by requesting the opposite.

“Get on with it.”

Thor – who actually seemed to _want_ to keep enabling Loki, keep pretending they didn’t both know that would be disastrous – looked disappointed, like his thoughts had veered off in the same direction as Loki’s and he was sad to be pulled back from the detour, but he didn’t voice any complaint.

He took his hand from Loki’s face and rested it on the switch. Rather than pick it up, though, he tried to put an official end to their game.

“Do you repent for all that you’ve done?” Thor asked, so gently that Loki wanted to claw out his throat. If only he weren’t restrained so, damn his own foresight.

“You know well that I do not.” Loki would have spit on him, but he’d already done so, earlier, and he didn’t feel like being tried for the same crime twice in one night, not when he had such a long list still to work through.

“Then it’s not good enough,” Thor decreed, and it was a solemn, weighty proclamation, though not as imperious as Loki would have liked: he sounded half-crazed, like Loki had just damned him to bear more strokes, rather than damning himself. But, then, this was a crucible for them both. He damned his brother with him, and always had, even before he introduced this. Heavy was the wrist that guided the switch, and heavier was Thor’s heart when he couldn’t decide who he was more disappointed with: Loki, for refusing to yield; himself, for being unable to force it so; Loki, again, for demanding that he try; himself, again, for agreeing to.

Loki swore by Valhalla and the, now, Eight that if Thor tried to invoke his _safeword_ – a thing of Midgardian invention, where _lovers_ did this sort of thing to _excite_ one another, and Thor’s appropriation; Loki had rejected its inclusion in their play until Thor, unfairly, forced it on him by stonily withholding from giving Loki the beating they both knew he deserved on nights he wouldn’t first assure Thor, before they even got started and he could have accurately gauged whether or not he might need it, that he’d use it if he did, and extend to Thor the same courtesy – Loki would burn with hatred for him. And it would be almost, though not quite, equal in measure to the hatred he’d feel for himself, for that sick part of him, itching just below his skin, that would be grateful to have escaped punishment, ready to plan their ruin anew, vindicated knowing that his designs, once discovered, and thwarted, would be met with only forgiveness and unending opportunities to try again. Yes, if Thor did that, he would feel compelled, like he once had, to destroy.

Or, at least, maybe, vanish all Thor’s left boots. He was working on a smaller scale, these days.

Thor took the switch back up, but he only weighed it in his hand, stalling.

He kneaded Loki’s shoulder, and the base of his neck, with tremendous but not painful pressure, like he was hoping all Loki needed was a firm hand.

“Do you repent for all that you’ve done?” Thor asked him, again, repetitive, ritualistic, like a rune or a mantra. He ran a soothing hand – and, this time, it was soothing, Loki let himself admit it, privately – over Loki’s cheek, still wet, though no more tears would come, and then carded it through his sweaty hair.

Loki had to swallow down his keen before he could answer. “No, but I wish I did.”

“That is worse.”

Thor traced the switch over where Loki’s flesh still stung from before. Traced higher, along the small of his back and then up to his shoulder blades; traced lower, along his calves and the soles of his feet, where it would be painful indeed for him to strike.

But he didn’t, not there: he brought the switch cracking down on Loki’s buttocks, again, several times, in careful, measured, unhurried succession.

And that wasn’t good enough, for Loki, who craved, always, what he couldn’t have. He wanted Thor driven by fury, for he could bear that much easier than he could tenderness. He wanted Thor livid at him, wanted Thor to see plain what Loki has done to him, to _them_ , and then have whatever revenge he liked, so long as Loki no longer existed, as he was now, by its end.

He wanted Thor to stick his cock down his throat. He wanted Thor to strangle him within an inch of his life, and then further. He wanted to bear Thor’s children. He wanted Thor to fuck him before his entire court so that they could all see he had been made tame by cock and would never trouble Asgard again. He wanted that to be true. He wanted Thor to propose marriage so he could laugh when he rejected him. He wanted to be able to fool himself that he would really react so if Thor did. He wanted Thor to kiss him gently on each eyelid and hold him tight until they both fell asleep, and then he would want all the same things, over again, the next morning.

“Do you repent for all that you’ve done?” It would, probably, be the last time Thor asked this night.

“No,” Loki said, and he wanted it to be a lie. Thor, too, he was sure, wanted it to be a lie, and had probably convinced himself that it was.

**Author's Note:**

> [Thotki.tumblr.com](https://thotki.tumblr.com)


End file.
